


Me Too

by Inell



Series: Just Like Me [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, FBI Agent Derek Hale, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hunting a Serial Killer, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of Bloody Hands, Past Torture, Scarification, Stiles References Events in His Childhood, Unresolved Sexual Tension, When the Jackal Had Him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: It's been three days since Paige disappeared, and Stiles knows they're running out of time. Still, he and Derek somehow manage to steal a personal moment together before they're forced to get back to work.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PencilTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilTrash/gifts).



> loveactually-rps said: Hi Inell, I'm so glad you're taking prompts!!!! Can you please write - Sterek - “I thought you knew.”? Thank you <3
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this, bb! The prompt was very inspiring for this one! Part 5 in the Just Like me Series. Fic #11 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge.

They’re running out of time.

It’s already fifteen minutes after seven on day three following the last kidnapping. If the perp continues the pattern, Paige Krasikeva has less than twenty-four hours to live. Stiles has been working the case in his hotel room all night, unable to sleep and too wired to relax. While he has a theory, he doesn’t have anything concrete to confirm it yet, which means he has to continue working every possible angle because complacency could result in victim five being found in the next two days.

A roll of Scotch tape and a stolen tube of Erica’s bright red lipstick has helped him turn his bathroom mirror into a white board for his theory. He’s got connections that make sense, can link his suspect to one victim directly and place the suspect in the vicinity of three other murders during the right time frame. However, it’s still not enough to proceed and risk showing their hand. He needs a smoking gun, as cliché as that is to accept, or else it’s all instinct and circumstantial evidence that could be dismissed as coincidence.

After staring at the mirror for a little longer, Stiles draws a line to Slaughter and writes a big red question mark above it. If the perp had already chosen his next male target the way Stiles suspects, was it merely chance that had him run into Paige at the club or was there some other connection that they’d missed. The pattern of days has become almost methodical for their perp, so Stiles believes what began as accidental has now become a guide. That means the perp had been searching for someone to take, to try to fill the void from not yet having the nerve to claim his primary target, and he’d used the first similarity he could identify in order to continue following his routine.

If that’s what actually happened, it’s taking an unconscious motivation and making it deliberate. Several of the factors in this case are definitely intentionally misleading, which means they’re dealing with someone skilled and in control, but there’s just enough details to make Stiles think that emotions can still get in the way. Not normal emotions like remorse or hesitation at taking a life, but the kind that stem from having power over someone’s life and the warped pleasure gained from what’s being done to the victims.

In Stiles’ opinion, anyone who takes another life for pleasure has to have some psychopathic tendencies, and generally also has a sadistic streak when torture or rape are involved. There isn’t a rationalization when dealing with psychopaths, so it’s difficult to successfully identify their motivation unless they’re around to discuss it. Stiles has an uncanny knack for figuring out patterns when none some to exist, for being able to step into the mind of the killer to predict the next action they might take, for thinking in a way that helps him understand the why and how in cases like this.

It’s a gift at the same time it’s a curse.

He stares into the sliver of mirror visible between the map and photograph he’s taped up, clearly able to see that he’s alone despite the whisper he’s hearing in his ear right now. _Little fox, you’re just like me. I see it in your eyes. We’re the same, you and I. Fate has brought us together so I can help you transcend._ “Just like me,” Stiles whispers, shaking his head suddenly and looking down at his hands, seeing what he saw then. A child’s hands, sticky with blood, nails ragged from being nervously bitten off, lifeless eyes staring up from the ground, the scent of musk sage so thick in the air he can smell nothing else.

The sharp sound of knocking snaps him out of his daze. He blinks at his hands, seeing long fingers and manicured nails due to the latest bonding adventure with his team. The black and white tile of the bathroom floor under his bare feet, the scent of aftershave tickling his nose, and he sighs because this case is really getting to him. Stirring up shit he’d rather forget. Memories that usually only haunt his dreams now lingering when he’s awake. He looks at one of the photos taped to the mirror and narrows his eyes. “We’re going to finish this soon,” he promises, turning off the light on his way back into his room.

Three more knocks rap in quick succession against his door before he can open it.

“Patience is a virtue,” he greets, arching a brow when he sees Derek poised to knock again.

“Never claimed I was virtuous,” Derek says, shrugging before walking past Stiles to enter the room. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I got distracted.” Stiles runs a hand through his damp hair, glad he at least got his shower taken and brushed his teeth before the case lured him back. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready. You can fill me in on what you and Erica were doing last night while I get dressed.”

“Are you going to fill me in on what you and Boyd were doing yesterday morning?” Derek asks. When Stiles glances at him, he snorts. “Stiles, I know you too well to believe you aren’t up to something. I trust you enough to know that you’ll tell the rest of us if we need to know. You like to keep your cards close to your chest when you think there’s any risk to our well-being, which is the only reason I’ve been able to accept that you don’t intend to make us feel untrustworthy by not including us from the beginning.”

“I trust you all with my life,” Stiles tells him firmly. He pulls his faded FBI t-shirt over his head and gets a clean undershirt out of his suitcase. “You’re incredibly important to me, Derek.” He looks over and sees Derek watching him intently. “So important. I thought you knew.”

“I do,” Derek says softly. “I do know, Stiles. You show me all the time.” Derek scratches his jaw, fingers rubbing against his beard. “I hope I show you, too. How I feel about you.”

Stiles grips the undershirt tightly, holding it against his abdomen before he starts picking at a loose thread in the waistband of his sweatpants. “You do.” He looks up at Derek through his lowered lashes, staring at him for a moment as the air around them seems to become charged. Or maybe he’s imagining the way the hair on his arms is standing up and the way his mouth becomes suddenly dry when Derek looks at him _like that_ : completely open, vulnerable, and scared. He gulps and licks his lips, tightening the gray thread around his finger as he whispers, “Yeah. Me too.”

A slight shudder goes through Derek, his shoulders quivering as his lips quirk slightly. “Good. That’s good.”

“After the case?” Stiles asks quietly, smiling a half-smile because he’s not all surprised that they just took a huge step forward in their relationship without saying more than a dozen words. But, really, who needs words when they’ve got years of actions to speak for them?

Derek nods, ducking his head but not quick enough for Stiles to miss his grin. “Despite some allegations to the contrary, I can be _very_ patient.”

“Maybe in some things,” Stiles mutters, watching Derek’s ears redden.

“The, uh, most important things.” Derek looks up at him and the intensity in his gaze literally makes Stiles’ breath catch. “I can wait for you, Stiles.”

“Won’t have to wait much longer, Der.” Stiles clears his throat and fumbles with his shirt, dropping it when he tries to put his arm through the neck hole because he’s too preoccupied with the way Derek’s looking at him, unguarded and so full of emotion that Stiles is kind of overwhelmed. Before he can bend down to pick it up, Derek’s there, grabbing the shirt off the ground and standing up.

“You dropped this,” Derek says, smirking slightly in a way that makes Stiles think about sex. He takes the shirt while Derek looks at his torso, staring openly in a way that’s only possible now that they’ve acknowledged something’s happening between them.

“They don’t hurt,” Stiles tells him, not sure what Derek’s thinking because this isn’t the first time he’s ever seen him shirtless, but none of the team ever treat Stiles any differently or even act like they notice the scars. He’s not insecure about them at all, so maybe they just follow his lead. But the very few times he’s ever got naked with someone else, the reaction’s usually been a little repulsed and wanting to know if they hurt.

“Mine do sometimes,” Derek admits, voice soft as he cautiously reaches his hand out, staring into Stiles’ eyes as if waiting for a cue to stop. Stiles doesn’t give it to him. When the tips of Derek’s fingers trace over the scar that runs diagonally from his clavicle to his sternum, Stiles bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tastes bitter copper on his tongue. Derek’s fingers are calloused, rough against the faded scar that’s stretched out since it was made when he was a skinny ten year old.

“Yours are burns,” Stiles whispers, hearing the thump-thump of his heartbeat in his ears as Derek gently traces the scars that the Jackal left on his chest. There are more on his back, his legs, the inside of his thighs; just deep enough to scar and make him scream, but not deep enough to make him bleed out. No, the Jackal was careful with him once he’d decided that Stiles would be his protégé, but it didn’t stop him from using Stiles’ skin as a sketchpad for his knife whenever Stiles got out of line.

“You’re beautiful.” Derek speaks so softly that it can’t even be considered a whisper. Stiles looks at him, lips parting, Derek’s thumb dragging over his clavicle as they sway towards each other.

“Am not,” Stiles murmurs, feeling warmth in his cheeks and knowing he’s probably gross and splotchy from his blush. He’s not insecure about his body, but he knows what he looks like naked, and it isn’t beautiful. Not the way Derek is. “You are.”

“Are too. A beautiful survivor.” Derek leans in slowly, looking into his eyes as he caresses Stiles’ jaw and tilts his chin. They’re nearly the same height, Derek just a couple of inches taller. He’s taking his time, giving Stiles the opportunity to say no, to refuse to go further right now.

The thing is, Stiles knows he probably should put a stop to this, knows they’re in the crucial time of this case, but he’s thought about his first kiss with Derek for six years. And considering he’s not usually sexually attracted to people, six years is practically a lifetime. His therapist always tells him to stop trying to label everything, but Stiles needs order in his life amidst the chaos in his head. Despite the things that were done to him when he was taken by the Jackal, he isn’t sex repulsed. He just doesn’t particularly need or want sex to feel happy and satisfied with his life. His feelings for Derek include physical attraction, but the fantasies Stiles has are domestic and almost innocent, nothing sexual beyond the kissing and snuggling.

“Stiles?” Derek has stopped leaning in and is looking at him questioningly.

“I want to. Have wanted to for six long years.” Stiles sighs, knowing he should have just gone for it before letting his mind get involved.

“But?” Derek is smiling now, a gentle understanding smile that makes Stiles’ feel like his heart might explode.

“But I don’t know if I’ll be able to focus the way I need to in order to try to catch this guy if you kiss me because I don’t understand how I’ll be able to think about anything but your mouth on mine once I’ve actually experienced it.” Stiles isn’t sure if he even makes sense, but Derek seems to understand him because he’s still smiling and stroking his thumb over Stiles’ jaw.

“After the case then,” Derek promises, and it _is_ a promise. “Once we’ve saved Paige and caught this guy, I’m going to give you the best kiss of your life, Stiles Stilinski. I’ll even make your toes curl, it’ll be that good.”

“What about a foot pop?” Stiles smiles slightly. “Anne Hathaway says a kiss isn’t a great kiss without a foot pop. Well, the character in that movie did but, still, Anne wouldn’t lie to me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek mutters, shaking his head as he takes a step back. “C’mon. Arms up.”

“Bossy.” Stiles puts his arms up, watching Derek’s face as he puts Stiles’ undershirt on his arms, smoothing it down across his abdomen. “You know, I can dress myself, right?”

“Can you? You were having difficulty earlier.” Derek arches a brow and smirks when Stiles rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, you can do the rest yourself while I tell you what Erica and I found out about the evasive Officer Ennis.”

“I thought you’d dropped that?” Stiles shoves his sweatpants down, kicking them off before getting a pair of gray suit pants off the hanger in the hotel’s wardrobe. He removes the dry cleaning tag before pulling them on one leg at a time. He has to lean his ass against the wall to keep from falling over because having an audience while getting dressed has thrown him off his normal routine. Well, not the audience part but the fact it’s Derek post-acknowledgement and talking about passionate kisses who is watching.

“No, I just wasn’t certain what he was hiding had to do with Paige’s disappearance.” Derek hands him his belt before sitting on the bed. “I asked Erica to take a look into the guy so I’d know he’s not connected to our case, and she found some interesting things.”

“Well, are you going to tell me or are you going to tease me?” Stiles asks, putting on a white shirt and tucking it so he can fasten his pants.

“There’s going to be plenty of teasing,” Derek says, voice just a little husky and suggestive. Stiles stops working on his belt to stare and, yeah, there might be a little drool seeing Derek in his fancy suit stretched out on Stiles’ bed. Derek gives him a knowing look that, huh. That’s part of their relationship now. Suggestive flirtatious looks that they know actually mean something a hell of a lot more serious. He could get used to that.

“You can tell me what you found out about Officer Ennis on the way to the office,” Stiles tells him, sitting on the bed so he can pull his shoes on. “Possibly with a stop to get food along the way? I zoned last night and forgot to eat.”

“Of course you did.” Derek sighs and steps up to take Stiles’ tie from him. “We’ll get doughnuts on the way.” He slips the tie around Stiles’ neck and begins to tie the knot.

Stiles isn’t as good with tying ties as Derek, but Derek grew up in a wealthy family with a private school education that gave him a lot of practice. Most of his family died in a house fire when Derek was seventeen, a case of arson that is actually what led Derek to wanting to pursue criminal justice. That’s also where he obtained the burns that still scar his shoulderblades and the back of his upper legs while helping his uncle get his sisters and cousin out of the burning house. The same uncle who runs a potentially illegal business with mafia connections out of Las Vegas that Derek threatens to have dispose of Matt.

“Are your burns sensitive to touch?” Stiles blurts out the question then realizes Derek might not want to talk about it. “I mean, my scars are old and they don’t hurt anymore, but they were sorta sensitive when you touched them. I was just curious if yours were the same.”

“I’m not sure.” Derek shrugs before finishing the knot. “Guess we’ll have to find out together, won’t we?”

“Guess so.” Stiles smiles, letting himself enjoy this one moment of elation and happiness with Derek before the real world comes crashing back in on them. It doesn’t last long. Too soon, he hears his phone buzz insistently and groans. Derek leans in and kisses the tip of his nose, making him blush like a splotchy dork while he reads the text that Allison just sent. “Damn it. Rafe is here and wants us at the office ASAP for a briefing.”

“Get your coat and meet me downstairs. I’ll go get the car so I can pick you up from the front,” Derek says, brushing his hand against Stiles’ before walking out of the hotel room.

Stiles gets his coat and messenger bag before he follows. While taking the elevator down, he sends a quick text to Boyd for an update and another to Danny for a little more detail about Chad Booker’s life and practice. With a countdown of less than twenty-four hours hanging over them, he’s got to get his head back in the game so they can prevent Paige from becoming victim number five.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Me Too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996429) by [taikodragon (hana_ginkawa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_ginkawa/pseuds/taikodragon)




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